My mind began to wander when the tutor reviewed the year's curriculum, and I started thinking about Lev and the police. Lev was good at keeping his mouth shut, but if they pressured him, he could snap. Then we had the problem with Maxwell’s kid. She was in the right place at the wrong time, so we have to make sure she keeps her mouth shut when it’s her turn to be questioned by the cops.
My daydream was interrupted by Cole’s phone buzzing on the desk, and he apologized to our tutor, then quickly turned it off after reading the message. “That chick again,” he mumbled, exhausted as if he was getting hassled.
“Who?”
“That sophomore chick, Karen, no, Carrie,” he mumbled, but the tutor shot him a sharp look, and he waited until the tutor had turned away before adding, “wants to meet up.”
“Are you gonna?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he shrugged casually, like he wasn’t bothered either way, but I knew he wouldn’t turn down a hookup.
“Keep it in your room, bro,” I warned as he liked to fuck them all over the house, even caught him in my bedroom and kicked him in the shins for it.
My bedroom was off-limits, but I found it easy to forgive Cole because he was so likable, which is why he has a hundred girls chasing after him. Unfortunately, a few of those girls used him to try to reach me. Throughout the entire class, she kept glancing back at me, and Cole would stab me a cocky look to tell me that I had her in the bag.
When class ended, she walked beside us, trying to make conversation as we headed to the sports field behind the basketball stadium, as we had a meeting with our head coach on the upcoming season starting late August.
“Get her number,” Cole said out of the corner of his mouth, but I shook my head and mouthed, “Nah.”
Robbie whistled out to us, and we climbed the bleachers to sit next to him and Conrad, as the head coach was having a quiet conversation with the administrators. The Castlehill Kings had a shit previous season with several injuries and a few inside dramas with problem players, but hopefully this season will be better after Coach cut away the dead wood.
I spotted the bright yellow head of Declan York, the older York brother, whom we thought we had eradicated from Castlehill, so I wondered if Coach’s insistence was one of the reasons they returned. We’re both quarterbacks and have, on occasion, butted heads to the point that Coach had to separate us. Despite his pretty boy appearance, he could pack a powerful punch that I had been on the receiving end of a few occasions.
“What’s that chick doing?” Cole nodded toward the edge of the bleachers, where Coach’s daughter was holding her phone up as if taking a pic of us.
“I thought we got rid of her,” I mumbled, and Cole snorted under his breath.
“Yeah, I don’t think that will be possible,” he challenged as Mel Rose, Rose Mel, whatever, took a seat at the bottom of the bleachers and kept looking up at us, becoming less attractive the more attention she gave me.
“Potential bunny boiler,” I decided, and looked away from her, so we didn’t accidentally lock eyes.
Cole snorted again. “How can you tell? We only just met her,” he challenged my analysis, narrowing his eyes at her as if searching for a sign, a red flag.
“My stalker radar is going off, bro,” I exaggerated, taking the piss, obviously. “Her head looks like a bright red siren.”
“You’re always like that, Sick,” he asserted as Coach cleared his throat to speak, and all eyes and focus were on him.
As Coach gave us a pep talk to raise our enthusiasm after a shit season, my mind kept pestering me over Cole’s comment. Until finally I had to ask, “What do you mean?”
“Huh?” he grunted, confused.
“What do you mean, I’m always like that?” I whispered, but I received a sharp, disapproving scowl from the administrator, so I clammed up and listened intently to Coach as the black cloud of negativity from last season soon started to lift, and fervor for our first game followed.
The excited energy peeled off my teammates as he spoke, riling us up, pushing last season behind us. “We learn from our mistakes,” he bellowed, pacing as the administrators nodded their heads in agreement, “Mistakes we must never repeat.”
Injuries weren’t mistakes, but who Coach chose to replace the injured players with was the problem. There were better choices, but for some reason, he didn’t use them. However, it wasn’t team spirit to outwardly blame one member of the team because all of us needed to take responsibility one way or another.
“Alright,” Coach announced, coming to the end of his rousing speech, clapping his hands twice, “Off you go to class, and I will see you back here at four PM tomorrow for first practice of the season.” Then shouted, “Warwick and York, down here. Now.” His tone told me everything I needed to know.
He waited until our teammates had left before he spoke, “Are you two going to piss around this year, or are you going to put your differences behind you for the team?”
“Yeah, I’ll do whatever you want,” I pressed, trying to convince him, “for the team.”
“And you?” he pointed his finger at the smirking fuck, Declan, who was slightly less of a dumbass than his younger brother.
“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement. We’d say anything to be on the team, and that included pretending to get along.
“Alright, now shake hands, you two, shake hands, go on,” he insisted, then shoved Declan to offer me his hand. “C’mon.”
